Post by Morndakiél on Feb 19, 2005 16:59:08 GMT -5
note from Cy: This is depressing! UHM!
***
And so one day she was bored, and she decided to write my regretfull story in the most interesting, concise yet...pleasant way she can. It is an excersize for her. For me...it gives me life.
Yes, she is nervous.
It was a long time ago, in a town very close to home. Philipsburg. New Jersey. The Earth. Universes were breached, by her alter-ego's innocent manipulations. Back then of course, she and I were me.
The first event took our reality out from under us; but she was in her element. The Jedi had come; the Sith came with them. Out of the sky the ships fell and she wanted nothing more then to return with them, to take to space and soar.
No, things were not perfect. It was not exaclty as it had been imagined, with the alter ego especially--but she was willing to forsake romance for action and life. Not I. I am the weak one...but also I have made my choice. And hers for her.
She, Cy you say, stole the ship from her alter ego and flew, and felt the first power. But that was reckless, and it called the baddies upon them. And so she and the other that was like her traveled to the heart of the enemy, made themselves undo their damage by destroying the enemy's ships.
She met Vader there, and Cy was strong enough to fight him--the sounds the sparks the shock the pain the joy--but she was not. She was taken to the machine.
She invented it, true, but it was no easier on her.
Then she saw him first. The young Sith, the apprentice, the blood-and-shadow one she had known before but not like this. Not like this, when he was commanded to hold her still while they ran current through the rock of the machine. His eyes were the last thing she saw before--
she was open to the Force then, open, vulnerable, near panic and screaming and hurting in all her cells. This mind, that mind, that world infringing on the real and the possible! And she was so alone...it was that pureness that made her me. In a way. She heard/felt/knew all those minds and none knew her.
It terrified her.
Fear is a strength, he would say later when the traning started and the dark side--all she ever knew, and all she ever wanted--began to flow through her. Hours of work and pain and hardening the heart and spirit, and with the harding there had to be a softening, because she was never meant to be hard.
She found herself watching him, his lava-colored eyes and infinate strength and purpose.
And he found himself realizing she was watching him.
And he found himself watching her.
Moments, dialogue? I will give you none of these. I can not remember them, and you do not want them. Already if you understand this (probably because you have heard it , but from the other side who did not admit to herself much of it) you are disgusted by it. Or fearful. Or understanding,
But if you are understanding, likely you will not live very long.
However it started...it completed in blood. They knew eachother well--she saw no one else for days. But a closeness turned to a moment, a tear of flesh against wicked revealed bone.
I hold the scar to this day.
But then, I--now, I do not see it as cruelty!
It is...everything. Every bond you break? Never has it broken. And it has been reopened.
But there came the end. There came the time that the really important people of this story defeated the evil and won out for good, and the ship she had become a dark-sider in plummeted to foreign earth. She walked out of it with the help of her friends. With them she felt whole, she felt safe, she felt right and back and her real name.
But he as well lived.
And he had no motive to change.
A Sith in a suburb hasn't much to do. He lived, where the others died because they had not had the burden of an apprentice, and she came to realize that he was watching her again.
The stalker had not forgotten the stalked, though the stalked tried to forget.
A long time this went on. Is going on.
I am not sure any more which, or if either is correct.
For a time she debated. The dark side had given her all this power--why forsake it? Why forsake the only love--love, speak that word with some confidance!--she could hope to recieve in her life for what had once been and was not good?
Because it was good. It was boring, sterile, without what had once been everything and back to before that, but it was good.
He knew she fought, and he fought her fighting. He wanted her back, and sometimes this very knowledge drove her to him for just a time, another moment.
But she steeled herself.
He had recently taken another apprentice because she would not stay with him and he needed an heir; a gawking earthling Force-welp with potential thin as his limbs. Jealosy would rise in her even with the illogicalness of that. No only must she be his love, but she must be his apprentice.
So she went one day. She stood between them on her Master's ship, where both sat meditating and drawing the Force to them. The human boy jittery and disgraceful, Maul silent, still, mesmerizing eyes hooded.
He came to her mind with the predator's grace and asked her for her final choice.
Here it is. Here is where she threw down the time/universe machine she had pulled out of fiction by a twist of the plot, and it rolled to the floor before him and he did not open his eyes. And she took the boy's hand and erased his memory outside, under the one sun, and returned him home. And she speaks to one of you every day. She is light, all tests passed.
And here is where I decided that I did not want to live under that sun the way they did ever again. I looked at that boy and saw everything my teen-self had come to resent, and it was resentment that flowed to my fingertips and steeled my feet for the flow of lightining-energy. The mundane's body grew hot before he died.
And I knelt before my Master there on the fighting floor, and my fingertips found the scar against his forhead, and his eys opened and shone.
Pain now, that inexplicable (or is it) awful-essential pain of such things.
We will be the last of the Sith. We will die together, and utterly alone, fighing those I once called friends.
If I look away, I feel the sadness. But If I look into his eyes, I remember why I chose the name Morndakiel. And you would do well to remember...for I never forget. Not grudges, not betratals, not base hatreds and passions. Not moments.
Never pasts.
And my past is all I am.
***
And so one day she was bored, and she decided to write my regretfull story in the most interesting, concise yet...pleasant way she can. It is an excersize for her. For me...it gives me life.
Yes, she is nervous.
It was a long time ago, in a town very close to home. Philipsburg. New Jersey. The Earth. Universes were breached, by her alter-ego's innocent manipulations. Back then of course, she and I were me.
The first event took our reality out from under us; but she was in her element. The Jedi had come; the Sith came with them. Out of the sky the ships fell and she wanted nothing more then to return with them, to take to space and soar.
No, things were not perfect. It was not exaclty as it had been imagined, with the alter ego especially--but she was willing to forsake romance for action and life. Not I. I am the weak one...but also I have made my choice. And hers for her.
She, Cy you say, stole the ship from her alter ego and flew, and felt the first power. But that was reckless, and it called the baddies upon them. And so she and the other that was like her traveled to the heart of the enemy, made themselves undo their damage by destroying the enemy's ships.
She met Vader there, and Cy was strong enough to fight him--the sounds the sparks the shock the pain the joy--but she was not. She was taken to the machine.
She invented it, true, but it was no easier on her.
Then she saw him first. The young Sith, the apprentice, the blood-and-shadow one she had known before but not like this. Not like this, when he was commanded to hold her still while they ran current through the rock of the machine. His eyes were the last thing she saw before--
she was open to the Force then, open, vulnerable, near panic and screaming and hurting in all her cells. This mind, that mind, that world infringing on the real and the possible! And she was so alone...it was that pureness that made her me. In a way. She heard/felt/knew all those minds and none knew her.
It terrified her.
Fear is a strength, he would say later when the traning started and the dark side--all she ever knew, and all she ever wanted--began to flow through her. Hours of work and pain and hardening the heart and spirit, and with the harding there had to be a softening, because she was never meant to be hard.
She found herself watching him, his lava-colored eyes and infinate strength and purpose.
And he found himself realizing she was watching him.
And he found himself watching her.
Moments, dialogue? I will give you none of these. I can not remember them, and you do not want them. Already if you understand this (probably because you have heard it , but from the other side who did not admit to herself much of it) you are disgusted by it. Or fearful. Or understanding,
But if you are understanding, likely you will not live very long.
However it started...it completed in blood. They knew eachother well--she saw no one else for days. But a closeness turned to a moment, a tear of flesh against wicked revealed bone.
I hold the scar to this day.
But then, I--now, I do not see it as cruelty!
It is...everything. Every bond you break? Never has it broken. And it has been reopened.
But there came the end. There came the time that the really important people of this story defeated the evil and won out for good, and the ship she had become a dark-sider in plummeted to foreign earth. She walked out of it with the help of her friends. With them she felt whole, she felt safe, she felt right and back and her real name.
But he as well lived.
And he had no motive to change.
A Sith in a suburb hasn't much to do. He lived, where the others died because they had not had the burden of an apprentice, and she came to realize that he was watching her again.
The stalker had not forgotten the stalked, though the stalked tried to forget.
A long time this went on. Is going on.
I am not sure any more which, or if either is correct.
For a time she debated. The dark side had given her all this power--why forsake it? Why forsake the only love--love, speak that word with some confidance!--she could hope to recieve in her life for what had once been and was not good?
Because it was good. It was boring, sterile, without what had once been everything and back to before that, but it was good.
He knew she fought, and he fought her fighting. He wanted her back, and sometimes this very knowledge drove her to him for just a time, another moment.
But she steeled herself.
He had recently taken another apprentice because she would not stay with him and he needed an heir; a gawking earthling Force-welp with potential thin as his limbs. Jealosy would rise in her even with the illogicalness of that. No only must she be his love, but she must be his apprentice.
So she went one day. She stood between them on her Master's ship, where both sat meditating and drawing the Force to them. The human boy jittery and disgraceful, Maul silent, still, mesmerizing eyes hooded.
He came to her mind with the predator's grace and asked her for her final choice.
Here it is. Here is where she threw down the time/universe machine she had pulled out of fiction by a twist of the plot, and it rolled to the floor before him and he did not open his eyes. And she took the boy's hand and erased his memory outside, under the one sun, and returned him home. And she speaks to one of you every day. She is light, all tests passed.
And here is where I decided that I did not want to live under that sun the way they did ever again. I looked at that boy and saw everything my teen-self had come to resent, and it was resentment that flowed to my fingertips and steeled my feet for the flow of lightining-energy. The mundane's body grew hot before he died.
And I knelt before my Master there on the fighting floor, and my fingertips found the scar against his forhead, and his eys opened and shone.
Pain now, that inexplicable (or is it) awful-essential pain of such things.
We will be the last of the Sith. We will die together, and utterly alone, fighing those I once called friends.
If I look away, I feel the sadness. But If I look into his eyes, I remember why I chose the name Morndakiel. And you would do well to remember...for I never forget. Not grudges, not betratals, not base hatreds and passions. Not moments.
Never pasts.
And my past is all I am.
Invader 
